


Gracie

by ShebasDawn



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShebasDawn/pseuds/ShebasDawn
Summary: An assassin and a little girl try to bring order to a world in chaos.
Kudos: 2





	Gracie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caraine/gifts).



1\. Zevran Makes a Mess

Gracie snuggled deeper under the covers with a sigh. She could feel the cold against her nose, the only bit of her body not under a pile of blankets. But under the covers, she was toasty warm. If she could, she'd stay in bed until the sun was high overhead. The cold didn't suit her at all. Mama used to say it was because she had thin blood, whatever that meant.

A warm, spicy smell enticed her to stick her nose out further, however, and she sniffed deeply. Gingerbread! The one thing worth braving the cold for! Gracie leaned over the side of her cot just far enough to find her slippers laid neatly on the floor next to her. She grabbed them and shoved them under the covers towards the bottom of the bed to warm them up a bit before sticking her feet into them. With her feet safe from the cold cobblestone of the floor, she hurried to the fireplace to stoke the fire, then ran back to her bed to curl up under the covers until the room warmed to a reasonable temperature.

The sun was just waking itself as she got dressed and followed the scent of gingerbread down the corridors of Skyhold, dimly lit by candles that had been placed at irregular intervals, their flames flickering as gusts of cold air blew in from holes in the stone walls of the keep.

Gracie wrapped her shawl around her tightly, unafraid. Even the dusty cobwebs clinging to every surface couldn't keep her from the source of the delicious smell – the keep's kitchens.

She pushed open the large wooden door to the kitchen a crack and poked her head inside, but instead of the wide, friendly face of Hannah, the chief cook, she was greeted by – an elf?

"Who are you?" she asked pushing the door all the way open. Only after the words had left her mouth did Gracie realize it might sound impolite, but she was relieved to see the man smile.

"My name is Zevran," the elf said with a polite bow, as if she were a princess or something, which pleased her very much, and she stood a little straighter as a result. "I hear you like gingerbread."

Gracie gave her best curtsey, just as her mama had taught her, and said, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Gracie," before walking the rest of the way into the room. "Yes, I like it very much. Hannah makes it for me, and she sometimes lets me put the faces on with frosting." She looked around, just noticing the light dusting of flour that seemed to coat every surface. "Where is she?"

"Well, she was teaching me how to make gingerbread men," Zevran said, gesturing to a pan on the table he was standing next to, "but by the time they were ready to come out of the oven, she said she was tired, so I offered to put the frosting on myself so she could have a rest." He gave her a smile. "You can help, if you would like."

"Wow, Hannah must have _really_ been tired! She doesn't usually tolerate such a mess in her kitchen."

Zevran followed her gaze. "What? It's not so bad. You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, you know."

"Oh, I'm not allowed to do any of the cooking," Gracie said matter-of-factly as she walked up to him. "But I can show you how to make the faces. Here, give me the frosting," she said as she gestured to the piping bag the man was holding.

She smoothed her hair back behind one ear to keep it out of her face and bent over the first one, carefully squeezing the bag so that just a small dot came out. She added a second dot next to the first to make the eyes as the elf watched her every move attentively. "See, you can't squeeze too hard, or it will come out in one big blob," Gracie said. Then she added a nose and a curving line under it for a smile, some buttons on the body, and little squiggles on the arms and legs. "Those are the cuffs of his clothes," she explained.

"I see," Zevran replied gravely. "May I try?"

"Sure," Gracie said cheerfully. "Don't be discouraged if you mess up, though," she added, as she handed him the bag. "It's harder than it looks."

"I will do my best," he said, with a hint of a smile. He bent over the next gingerbread man to begin.

Gracie watched carefully as Zevran followed her instructions, then clapped when he was done. "That's good! If you practice, you could be as good as me!" She reached both hands out for the bag. "Now my turn." The little girl bent over the next gingerbread man, humming a tune under her breath, happy to have found a new friend.

2\. Sweetness Causes Trouble

After Gracie and Zevran had finished up in the kitchen, they had sampled the results. It was a bit salty, but Gracie didn't mention it. It was still pretty good, and she had tucked an extra gingerbread man into her pocket to give to the armorer's son, Henry, who had been sick in bed with a fever for two days. Perhaps it would cheer him up. She sat with him a moment or two, then busied herself with the few chores around the shop she was allowed to do. Once that was done, she set off for the barn to visit her kittens.

She stepped into the barn and waited until her eyes adjusted to the dim light, sneezing a time or two. Once Gracie could see again, she started calling out, "Here kitty, kitty," as she searched for the kittens that belonged to Mama Kitty. That's the name she had given the barn cat who'd had them. The kittens were old enough now to be having their own adventures, giving Mama Kitty fits as she tried to keep track of them. Gracie giggled at the thought.

Angel bounded up to her, and she reached down to pet the kitten, causing her to purr loudly. "Hi Angel, where's all your brothers and sisters?" Gracie asked, but the tabby was too busy weaving herself between her legs to reply. But that was okay, it didn't take long for her to find most of them on her own. Even though they were old enough to go exploring, that rarely involved going any place outside the barn, and the one time one of them had ventured out farther, Gracie had found her a few yards away, seemingly very pleased with herself for being so brave.

That had been Sweetness, Gracie's favorite, and she was the only one still missing. "Here kitty, kitty. Here, Sweetness," she called out as she started searching the area outside the barn. But the little grey kitten was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, she folded her arms and thought about what to do. As the farrier finished his work on one of the horses, she heard a meowing sound in the relative quiet. But it seemed to be coming from…the wall? Gracie started walking alongside the wall as she listened to the cries. She came to a spot where the stones had fallen, leaving a gap, and looked out. But, she didn't see the kitten anywhere. And there wasn't many places Sweetness could be hiding, since it was mostly rocky ground covered with snow. The meowing sound started again and Gracie looked up to find the kitten almost to the top of a small tree. She was easy to see, as the tree had shed its leaves for winter, and the kitten was clinging to the trunk for dear life.

Gracie put her hands on her hips. "Come down here right now, Sweetness!" she said firmly, in the same I-mean-business tone of voice her mom had sometimes used with her, but the kitten didn't budge. She could see how easy it would have been for Sweetness to climb the tree. It had grown at a slight angle, almost as if it had been made just for kittens to climb it. But if she'd gotten up there, why didn't she just come back down?

She sighed. "Fine, I'll come get you, but you'd better never do this again!" she scolded as she started up. It really was easy to climb, and it only took her moments to reach the kitten. "Why in the world didn't-" she started to ask, then happened to glance down and understood in an instant. There was nothing below them, no ground at all. The world just ended. Gracie froze, too scared to move.

3\. The Inquisition

Zevran found Leliana sitting at her desk in the keep's rookery, bent over some papers in front of her. She looked up with a warm smile on her face as he approached.

"Well, how did it go?"

He chuckled. "She taught me how to put the faces on gingerbread men."

Leliana joined in his laughter as she came around her desk. "That sounds like Gracie."

He became more serious as he continued, "I cannot thank you enough for getting word to me about her mother. I was not even aware that Marie was attending the Conclave. I am in your debt."

The spymaster waved him off. "Nonsense, of course I would let you know. Marie was a dear friend of mine, as are you."

She gestured for Zevran to follow her as she walked out onto the battlements.

"What are your plans?"

Zevran sighed. "I was hoping to find a family had taken Gracie in."

"I see."

Although there was no judgement in the bard's tone, he felt compelled to elaborate. "I cannot bring her with me, of course. My life is too dangerous."

"You could stay here."

Zevran snorted. "I would only draw the Crows here and bring more danger to her."

Leliana was silent for a moment. "If you felt the Wardens could protect you, why not the Inquisition?"

Now it was the Antivan's turn to pause and consider. "No matter," he said, with a tiny shake of his head, "I am not done with the Crows. I cannot afford commitments right now. And they must not find out about her, or they will use her as leverage against me."

She turned to him, eyes searching. "What do you mean by being done with them? Do you plan to kill all the masters?"

"No, that would only leave a power vacuum. I must fill it."

"So you plan to become the guildmaster?" Leliana seemed honestly surprised. "Go back to your old life?"

He looked at her. "The Crows pride themselves on being the best – elite. With the number of poor in my country, they could have recruits lined up to become one of them. There is no need for stealing street kids or buying orphans, nor is there a need for the abuse that gets passed off as training. Perhaps it is not the best solution to poverty," Zevran admitted. "But, there will always be assassins in Antiva. And there will always be the poor. If I cannot abolish the Crows, why not redefine them? Use the one to help the other?"

"I see," the bard replied thoughtfully. "So, I suppose you didn't reveal you're her father?" It was a question, but Zevran could tell by her tone it was rhetorical.

"No." He hesitated. "I am not sure how, or even if I should, to be honest. Perhaps she will blame me for her mother's death, or at least demand some reason for my absence in her life until now. And what would I say? I did what I thought was best for them, but a six-year-old would not understand." The Antivan sighed. "And I do not want her to ever find out what I am," he added.

Leliana remained silent, and Zevran realized a bard would be no more likely to know how to handle such a situation than an assassin would. He looked out over the horizon and then down at the courtyard below them. The rookery was an excellent place to view everything going on outside of Skyhold, from the narrow path that was the only way to reach the keep, to the activity on the grounds below them, nothing was hidden from their gaze. "I am surprised at how well Gracie seems to be taking her mother's death."

"Do not be fooled. She is grieving deeply, as are we all. Everyone here has lost someone." She smiled at Zevran. "I believe Gracie's way of coping is to help as many people as she can. You will always find her busy trying to be useful somewhere or another."

The assassin felt an odd mixture of relief and pride that caught him off guard. "Well, I am glad she will not be taking after her father, it seems," he joked to cover his bewilderment.

Undeterred by his attempted deflection, Leliana continued, "I believe she feels responsible to take care of others, to help them, because she could not keep her mother safe. It is a heavy responsibility for a six-year-old."

Zevran knew his defensiveness was unwarranted. Leliana was only telling him the truth as she saw it; it was what real friends did. But he couldn't help himself. "I cannot care for her!" he burst out. "What would you have me do? Attempt to raise a daughter while running an order of assassins? Assuming I even knew how to be a father, which I don't."

Before Zevran could think of anything to add to that, he caught sight of something that made his heart stop. "Gracie!" he yelled, then turned and flew down the stairs leading out of the rookery as fast as he could.

4\. An Unfamiliar Role

Zevran raced to the tree and immediately started climbing, calling out as he did so, "Gracie! Gracie I'm here, hold on!" But he had to stop a little over halfway up when he realized the tree wouldn't hold the combined weight of them, no matter that he was an elf and Gracie a six-year-old. _Now what?_

"What can I do to help?" he heard Leliana say, and he glanced back to see her looking up at him from where she stood at the base of the tree, her hands cupped around the sides of her mouth to project her voice.

Thinking quickly, the Antivan replied, "Find a length of thin, strong rope and bring it to me."

Leliana disappeared without reply as he turned back to Gracie. "Do not worry, I will get you down."

She nodded, her eyes full of unshed tears. "And Sweetness, too, right?"

"What-" Zevran started, but at that point, Leliana returned. How she'd done so so quickly, he couldn't imagine.

"How about a lariat?" Leliana asked.

"Perfect. Tie a lasso on either end." She did so, and threw the rope to him. Zevran caught it neatly with one hand, then slipped one end of the rope around his waist and tightened it.

He looked up at Gracie and tried to get a little closer, inching forward until he dared go no higher. But even stretching himself out as far as he could, the closest he could get to her barely allowed his fingertips to brush the bottom of her shoes.

"Gracie, I'm going to need your help, okay? When I tell you, I need you to move your leg away from the tree just a little bit, and just long enough for me to put this rope around your ankle. It will only take a moment." The rope was thick enough and stiff enough for the loop Leliana had made to stay open if he held it by the knot, so it _should_ work. In any case, it was the only thing Zevran could think to do. He dared not ask her to climb down on her own without being tied off first!

Without questioning, she nodded her understanding.

"Okay Gracie, now," he said. She moved her leg so there was a small gap between her foot and the trunk of the tree, and Zevran neatly slipped the loop over her foot and around her ankle. His relief was momentary, however, when it dawned on him that he had no way to tighten the knot. _Brasca!_ Would the complications never end?

After a moment's thought, he decided there was nothing for it. All he could do was hold on to the rope as tightly as possible and be prepared to move quickly to tighten it if she slipped. "Gracie, I'm going to need to you start backing down for me, okay? I can't make it all the way to where you are; the tree's not strong enough to hold us both."

"I can't! I'll fall!" she cried, clinging all the more tightly to the tree.

"No, you won't," he replied in his best reassuring voice. "And I'll catch you if you do – that's what the rope is for. See? It's attached to me too, so now we are connected together."

"But what if you fall, too?" Gracie asked, not at all reassured.

"I won't," Zevran answered smoothly. "I'm too strong for that, okay? Only please trust me and start backing down."

She inched down just far enough for Zevran to be able to wrap his hand around her ankle, then stopped. "What about Sweetness? We can't leave her here!"

"Gracie, it's just a cat. Don't worry about it, just come down!" Even as he spoke, Zevran was making sure the rope was securely fastened around her ankle.

The little girl's face set in stubborn lines the Antivan recognized all too well from her mother's, her fear suddenly forgotten. "We can't leave her here," Gracie said firmly.

"I will get her down myself, after you are safe, I promise," he hastened to reassure her. Seeing she was about to reply, and guessing her objection, Zevran added, "Once you are down, there won't be as much weight on the tree, and I'll be able to go higher." Whether or not that was true, he didn't know or care, of course, as long as she was out of harm's way.

"Okay," Gracie said, but she sounded dubious. No matter, she had started to move again. In only a few moments, Zevran had an arm around her, and in a few more they were both safely on the ground. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and the sudden applause took him by surprised. He looked up to see that in the few short minutes it had taken to get her down safely, they had garnered a small crowd of onlookers.

"Now go get Sweetness," the girl demanded, as Leliana knelt next to her to remove the rope from her leg. Resigned, Zevran turned and started back up without a word.

5\. Limbo

Zevran spent the following week in a kind of limbo. Unwilling to stay and yet unable to leave, he kept himself busy while he wrestled with his dilemma. To stay meant not only putting his daughter in danger, but giving up his dream of reforming the Crows. Gracie could have a decent life with just about any family, but if he didn't act, the Crows would continue churning through children as if they were disposable, and those who weren't fortunate enough to die young would grow up being tortured and humiliated until they were left empty husks.

But although he'd secretly scrutinized the villagers who'd come to Skyhold seeking shelter, gathering information from Leliana's spies as well as his own observations, there were none he felt sure of, none he felt confident could give Gracie the safety and stability he wanted for her, assuming they would even _want_ to take in a child not their own.

And yet he could not give her those things, either.

While he wracked his brain looking for a solution that wouldn't involve either leaving his six-year-old daughter to make her way in the world as best she could, or leaving countless other six-year-olds to the horrors of a childhood at the mercy of the Crows, he busied himself with small missions with Inquisition forces. There were a seemingly endless number of people who needed help. If it wasn't bandits that needed killing, it was local healers needing plants for medicines, a spoiled landowner with a missing pet ram, or starving villagers in need of meat. Apparently none of them knew how to hunt or fish, and Zevran was of the opinion that it would be better to teach them than have Inquisition forces tied up doing for them what they should be able to do for themselves. Still, it was familiar, almost like being back with the Wardens fighting the Blight. There were even darkspawn to put down.

In the evenings he would hang out in the tavern, listening to Varric's stories, or sitting in on a game of cards. Sometimes he would spend a little time with Gracie, but not too often. He didn't want to raise too much suspicion. Or, more honestly, get too close to her. Not until he knew what he was going to do.

Zevran kept tabs on her though, either shadowing her himself when he was at the keep, or getting intelligence from some of Leliana's agents when he was out on missions. And it seemed Leliana was right: Gracie was forever trying to rescue someone or something, as if she felt compelled to save the world. It was at the same time a source of pride and a source of frustration, as he did his best to watch over her, to make sure she didn't risk her life again, especially for something as silly as a stray kitten.

6\. A Pale Horse

It was late in the evening, and Zevran had just gotten back to Skyhold after his latest mission. They had spent several days tramping through the Hinterlands killing one thing or another: bandits, apostates, crazed templars, wolves. It seemed there was a never ending supply of enemies. Every inch of him felt gritty and dirty, and all he wanted was a long soak in a hot bath, perhaps a nice glass of wine or two, and then to sleep in his soft, warm bed for a good twenty-four hours, possibly more.

He dropped all his gear on the floor of his bedroom, and sat down on a chair near the fireplace to pull off his boots. But before he could, there came a knock at the door. "Yes?"

Leliana poked her head in. "Do you have a moment?" she asked.

"My dear Leliana, for you I always have a moment," the Antivan said, flirtatious out of habit. But his tired smile belied his tone.

The bard closed the door behind her before taking a seat on a chair across from him. "I would not bother you so soon after your arrival, but I thought you'd want to know-."

"What's happened to Gracie?" Zevran interrupted, fear seizing him.

Leliana raised her hands in a gesture meant to calm him. "She's fine, just terribly upset right now. Do you remember Henry, the sick little boy she's been visiting every day?"

He nodded, unwilling to interrupt again.

"Well, he passed away this morning, I'm afraid. And she's taking it rather hard."

Zevran let out a sigh, his body sagging, relieved to hear she was unharmed. "Oh, is that all?" he said.

She frowned, and he hurried to elaborate. "I'm just glad to hear Gracie is safe. Naturally she's upset, but she will get over that in time." He knew that came out sounding a little callous, but with so much death day in and day out, it was hard not to be. "Gracie's a survivor, just like me. You will see."

"Of course," Leliana replied, a bit stiffly, as she stood. "I just thought you should know. I'll let you get some rest."

The Antivan thought to protest, but his heart wasn't in it. He was exhausted and filthy, and besides, what could he do? The only remedy for grief was time, and he felt sure that, given time, Gracie would bounce back.

But she didn't.

7\. Turn the Page

As the days passed, Gracie seemed to withdraw into herself, completing her mostly self-imposed chores almost absentmindedly, and spending her free time either idly looking out of a window or wandering through the keep aimlessly. The former vivaciousness and _joie de vivre_ that so characterized Gracie was gone, so much so that she reminded Zevran of Cole to an unnerving degree.

All his attempts to draw her out had been spectacularly unsuccessful, and that unsettled him even more. Usually pouring on the charm worked, well, like a charm. But his best efforts had fallen flat, and he felt helpless to even comfort her, much less draw her out of the darkness that seemed to be suffocating her.

It was one of those ugly, blustery, grey days, when the weather was too dangerous for travel and everyone was indoors congregating around fireplaces or in taverns, when he found Gracie curled up in a nook in the library. Someone, probably Leliana, if Zevran had to guess, had thought to bring her some blankets and a mug of hot chocolate. She was bent over some papers, and when he got closer, he could see she was drawing with colored pencils.

"Hello, Gracie. May I join you?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Sure. Do you want to color with me?"

Zevran laughed, but then thought, why not? "Okay," he said, as he sat down next to her. Gracie gave him some of her paper and pushed the colored pencils closer to him.

He picked up a pencil, one the honey-brown color of Marie's hair, and started idly doodling while he tried to think of something to say, but he felt at a loss for words. Almost at random, he asked, "How do you like it here, Gracie?"

Without looking up from her drawing, she shrugged her shoulders and said something that vaguely sounded like, "I dunno." Zevran waited, and after a moment, she added, "I don't like all the shadows. It's too dark."

Zevran glanced around. It was true, Skyhold was filled with shadows that danced along the walls and gathered in every corner of the keep. It was a familiar, comforting atmosphere for a bard or assassin, but no place for a little girl. "And where did you use to live?"

She kept her head down, still working on her drawing, but replied, "We used to live all over. Me and my mom, I mean. But our last house was really nice. It was sunny and had lots of windows with flower pots underneath them. See?" Gracie leaned back so that Zevran could see a crude drawing of a house, with a black curly cue coming out of what must be the chimney. In front of the house were two stick figures and a four legged creature that could have been a dog or a cat for all he could tell.

"Who are the people in the picture?"

"That's me," she said, pointing to the smaller figure, "my mama," pointing to the taller figure, "and our dog, Buster," she finished, pointing to the animal. "I miss them," Gracie added, almost too softly for Zevran to hear, then suddenly burst into tears.

Zevran, caught off guard, felt his jaw drop, but he shut it quickly, mentally scolding himself for his surprise. He put an arm around Gracie and hugged her tightly.

She was saying something else, but with her face buried in his chest, he could barely make out her muffled words. "What was that, _bella_?"

Gracie lifted her head enough to say, "If I had been there, I could have saved them. Mama wouldn't let me go, she made me stay behind with nana, but she couldn't stop Buster from following her, so he went along, but then somebody blowed them all up!"

She started wailing at that, burying her face back into his chest, and he hugged her all the more tightly and let her cry. _If I ever get my hands on the persons responsible for blowing up the Conclave, they will_ beg _to be allowed to die!_

When the worst of her tears had passed, Zevran took her face in his hands and looked her in the eye. "Gracie, you could not have saved your mother or your dog," he said gently. This caused a fresh squall of tears, albeit not nearly as heavy or long, and he did not let her look away. This was too important. "If all those big, bad mages and templars couldn't stop them, you wouldn't have been able to either."

He could see hope and despair warring on her face and understood completely – however awful the implications might be, having _some_ sort of control made a frightening and overwhelming world a little less so. But the burden of being able to save your loved ones, and yet not able to...that was unbearable.

"That is why we are here," he continued, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "We will stop whoever is responsible and make sure this never happens again."

Gracie nodded, then gave a big yawn. The storm of emotion had passed, leaving her exhausted, and her eyelids were already heavy with sleep.

"Come, let's get you to bed so you can have some rest. We can finish our drawings later." Zevran took her by the hand and led her to her room, then tucked her into bed. Gracie seemed to fall asleep the moment her head touched her pillow.

Watching her sleep, he realized he had decided to stay, at least long enough to help the Inquisition. As long as Corypheus was still a threat, he would not even be able to help Gracie, much less any of the children at the mercy of the Crows. Relief flooded him at the thought of not having to choose just yet. Once Corypheus was dead, there would be time to decide what to do. Right now, making the world safe for Gracie was more than enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Gracie was a Secret Santa present I wrote in 2019 for fellow Cheeky Monkey Caraine. 2020 being what it was, I totally forgot to post it here as well.


End file.
